


Cancelation

by Hyacinthium



Series: Oumasai/Saiou Week Au [5]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 21:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15010040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthium/pseuds/Hyacinthium
Summary: We're still here, we're still living, but sometimes Shuichi stays up at night anyway.





	Cancelation

**Author's Note:**

> Day Five, Anniversary and Despair.

“Saihara-chan… “ Kokichi mutters as sleep approaches him. 

Shuichi looks down at the man in his arms, and again catches the scent of rose tea from Kokichi's hair, watching as Kokichi giggles again. The bed shifts with their combined weight. It's been a few days since Kokichi's birthday, and so a few days since Shuichi waited for everyone else to leave before presenting his gift. A few days since a pair of rings helped join them further together. 

As if the two of them actually needed that help. 

“I'm just Saihara-chan again?” he smiles. “That's oddly formal for you to use with your fiance. Especially now.”

Purple eyes slowly open and drag their way up to Shuichi's lips, then his eyes. 

Kokichi pouts, “It's cuz Shuichi was smelling my hair. Like a creep~”

Purple eyes twinkle with light hearted mischief and shut again. Kokichi nuzzles further into Shuichi's chest and falls back into the exhausted pull of his body. He's too tired to notice and address the way that Shuichi tenses. Shuichi can't hold it against him, and wouldn't even if he could. 

A creep. 

Shuichi has always been the one closest to those memories. 

During Dangan Ronpa, Shuichi had ended up being the one with the strongest feelings, and even actual memories, if mostly murky. Kokichi had been similar during the game though. Still, the other man seemed to have neglected them enough for the memories to fade away. Everyone had been given three months to decide whether they wanted them, after of which they would need permission from a specialist to regain them, and Shuichi had wholeheartedly rejected the concept. He rejected most things related to what Tsumugi had told them. Wanted only to tear down the false dichotomies of Hope and Despair, which his past memories were intimately related to. 

As the years go by, Shuichi has awoken to more and more drops of knowing all on his own. 

Today is their anniversary. Not of a date or of dating, but of joining Dangan Ronpa in earnest, the anniversary of crying on the floor of Shuichi's childhood home with letters at their sides.

Kokichi has no idea what today means. 

Shuichi stares up at his ceiling and holds Kokichi tighter. 

He still can't really understand what kind of person he used to be, back then. Wide and not so subtly crazed eyes, a voice full of something ugly, and a mouth stretched into a parody of a smile. A creep. Someone truly obsessed with something so cloying toxic that they can't process reality. The entire world had been caught up in that mental swamp. 

But that Saihara Shuichi had still been as much Saihara Shuichi as Shuichi is now, in the end. In the way that had counted, Shuichi still came to hate Dangan Ronpa. He can remember now that skewed and warped ideal of love, feel with accuracy the way it shuddered, remember the noises he made when it broke; the way those few leftover fragments remained even in the virtual world. 

Sometimes, Shuichi wonders if hanging onto them was a mistake. If holding onto those mysterious feelings has simply resulted in Shuichi trapping Kokichi into a cliche future.

Nights where he gets stuck in doubt and memory- they're nights where Shuichi wonders if he's still in a fake world. 

But they are getting better, and healing, even if it doesn't always seem that way. 

Kokichi whispers something about ducklings against his chest. Shuichi looks down, and reaches to fix Kokichi's hair to being back behind his ear, a tired smile pushing against tired eyes. Kokichi's nose twitches. 

“Shuuuuichi, bed,” comes a slurred reminder. 

The man in question laughs. 

It doesn't come easy, but Kokichi's soft breathing, and his warmth despite the ever present summer heat- A no longer frail nor paper pale arm fumbles up in order to cradle Shuichi's face. Slowly, Shuichi allows himself to melt into Kokichi's embrace. It takes maybe thirty minutes for him to relax, according to their alarm clock, so Shuichi turns it over after some careful stretching. Kokichi fidgets and pulls him back down to their bed, something that makes Shuichi smile and sigh. Minutes pass into hours-

He wakes up at approximately 5:17 in the morning.

There's the smell of something sweet drifting in from the kitchen, and the bed is still warm on Kokichi's side, meaning that Shuichi has woken up after only four hours of sleep. Meaning that so did Kokichi.

Shuichi forces himself out of their bed and struggles his way into slippers. They're small and very bird looking. 

Kokichi must have stolen his again. 

The hallway is lit up by a single kitchen light, and Shuichi feels along the wall until he can see Kokichi's apron clad form. Kokichi is still small even now, though his regularly dyed purple hair make him larger than life, and his humming lends an air of domestic charm to their home. The scene reminds Shuichi of those last days. 

They had spent all their funds on ingredients to bake with. Even an ice cream maker had made its way into their cart. Shuichi's parents had been shocked, but joined in on the quietly frantic… thing. 

Kokichi pauses at the sound of a creaking floorboard. Not loud, but Shuichi and Kokichi had both decided to make their apartment less ‘disturbingly perfect’. 

Shuichi's parents were rich, and raised him in a large retro-traditional house, but even that had been more technologically literate than how Dangan Ronpa had left them. The old Shuichi wouldn't have flinched at the thought of not hearing some floorboards creak. 

The bright grin on Kokichi's face yanks Shuichi out of his nostalgic thoughts- and burns them to ash. 

“Mornin’ dearheart!” Kokichi sings, the skin about his puffy eyes crinkling. “I made a bunch of pancakes, egg souffles, and I've got some bacon in mind. Woke up feeling more western than Miu's mom!”

Shuichi chuckles at the memories of Miu's natively French mother, specifically her love of cooking ramen from scratch, and shuffles over to their table. He sits on the false hardwood bench and rubs his eyes. 

In the kitchen, Kokichi finishes up his current batch and turns off the stove. 

There's a cup of still steaming coffee and a cup of half finished tea, the nearby teapot decorated by tiny rainbow fingerprints right next to it. Soft padded wacks of too big slippers accompany Kokichi's own trip, announcing his arrival, followed by warm arms wrapping around Shuichi's slumped shoulders. 

Kokichi breathes into the crown of Shuichi's skull. 

“Work?” he asks. 

Shuichi shakes his head. 

When Kokichi asks if it's just because, Shuichi almost lies and nods. It would be easy to pretend that he has no idea. Easy because Kokichi would absolutely accept it even if he could tell. Sometimes they both have to wait and think more, think about how to explain, to say it without causing pain. It's rarer now. 

But Shuichi can't handle keeping this in. Not when Kokichi made Shuichi's favorite comfort foods so early. 

“It was today, I remembered just last week after visiting your kids.”

A strange and understanding noise vibrates in Kokichi's throat. He holds tighter, and goes to bring one of Shuichi's hands to the coffee. But Shuichi knows that he doesn't know exactly what Shuichi means. 

Kokichi rubs Shuichi's cheek, “I figured, Mimi-chan and Hiro-chan had that fight over that show. Mimi-chan said she wouldn't be his friend anymore.”

Shuichi’s eyes shut as he takes a gulp of coffee. 

“It's stupid to remember something because of-” he begins. A hand covers his eyes. 

They do that when things get too much. Block out the world, and count to ten while taking deep breaths in and out. A cycle. 

Coffee might have caffeine, but the warmth spreading from its familiar taste does help. It's a slow switch from long sips and steady breathing. Alternating as Shuichi acknowledges the burn building up in his eyes. When Kokichi asks if he's ready to stop, and Shuichi pulls his hand down to kiss. 

“I'm sorry,” the detective says, voice hoarse and eyes wet. “I was so stupid. Horrible. You tried to tell me that something was wrong, but all I could hear…”

Shuichi’s eyes are still closed when Kokichi scoots down into the bench. 

Kokichi slides his tea towards himself. He hovers the cup, painted with soft yellow flowers, and sets it back down. 

“You weren't a bad person.”

His shoulders tremble, because Shuichi knows enough about enough to say that he was. Can recall the scribble of pen on paper and taps on a touch screen. It's a good thing that Dangan Ronpa preemptively deletes all social media accounts, because otherwise Shuichi would have had to witness each disgusting confession. Even if they weren't actually confessions. 

Bold and earnest statements that perfectly showcased just how disturbing the entire world was. How Shuichi was. 

He's scared about having the capacity for such things. Shuichi can't stand chocolate chip cookies.  
‘I'm sure that he made them for me!’

That fear must have slip from his mouth, as Kokichi holds him tightly, curling them around one another. 

“I don't hate any kind of Shuichi, okay? That feeling could never be aimed at you. Not from me. “

But Shuichi is-

“I hurt people too. Back then, and probably now. I started so many arguments in the sim! Tried to force people to improve back when we first got out. We argued a lot at the start, remember?”

But never abandoning someone to-

Kokichi brings the coffee up to Shuichi's lips. Shuichi blinks and wonders when Kokichi had enough hand to grab it all with. The other man has become downright parental after working with kids, always trying to take care of people, and improve things. 

“Your birthday…” Shuichi begins. “I proposed to you, and I'm worried that you only said yes because you felt you had to.”

A sigh, “Neither of us actually remember it all. Just the feelings and flashes, along with subconscious recognition. Also, I'd still say yes even if you were sweaty and full of hikki-neet grease. After forcibly bathing you.”

Eyes opening, Shuichi turns to look at his lover. His partner. Pale purple looks back at him from a gentle face. It's no wonder that Kokichi is so popular at his workplace. Even the most reluctant of parents end up charmed by this grown up Kokichi, it seems. Shuichi feels like a particularly bratty kid getting silently scolded. Only a little though. 

The detective decides to reach out first, cold hands eventually becoming intertwined with Kokichi's warmer one. 

“I think mine are going to come back on their own, Kokichi.” 

He doesn't need to explain what. 

Teeth instantly take hold of a bottom lip. Kokichi lifts his tea to his mouth and chugs it. Then, he pours a new cup and chugs that too. As if to pretend that it's alcohol, instead of whichever of the ten different teas that Kokichi drinks. Shuichi joins him. 

For a moment there is nothing other than the hum of their kitchen. 

Kokichi speaks, “I've always despised June. It's hot, assholes clamor to marry, and my birthday is there too.”

Their hands squeeze together. 

“I called your parents a few times, to learn about us. You know most of them. But one time we talked-”

Shuichi watches Kokichi start to shake and moves to set down the cups, holding him closer. 

“They overdosed.” Kokichi mutters. 

And, Shuichi hears, what if they weren't actually as horrible as the feelings in my gut say? What if they realized how awful Dangan Ronpa really was, like so many other people? What if never being contacted by their only child pushed them away from the possibility of recovery and into death? Didn't they at least accept some important part of me? 

But one good action of replacing skirts with pants is nothing compared the rest, Kokichi once told him. No amount of that can undo the abuse. Even to when it can't be consciously remembered outside of a rearranged backstory. 

“When?” is what Shuichi asks instead. 

They both know that those thoughts are traps- and oh so very human. 

“Months ago.”

Ah.

“Thank you for telling me,” they whisper like a pair of doves. It makes Kokichi laugh, a sharp sound. 

Kokichi turns and pecks the corner of Shuichi's mouth, resting a hand on his back. The sun is finally raising fully. The rays of light brighten the room and bring everything into focus. 

Shuichi smiles something weak, but solid. 

“We're still here, Shuichi. We're still living-” Kokichi cuts off. 

His eyes widen. 

“The pancakes are probably cold now!” he finishes, flying up and over to the mountains of cooling breakfast creations. “Shit, okay we're gonna eat and then have a relaxing bath full of talking a lot.”

Laughter slips out of Shuichi's mouth and small tears spill into his empty coffee cup. They're still both so horrible at communication, if only sometimes. Neither of them have ever been the best at hearing either. Despite those flaws, they've found one another. 

It's that ideal that gives Shuichi half the strength to get up on some mornings. 

That Kokichi has a home where he can fret over simple things like cooking mishaps, misplacing his favorite sneakers, or where he can freely laze around with no shirt and no worries about the thin scars there. And he does have that now, Kokichi does have Shuichi's own personal goal; a place where he can rest safely.

They both do, with one another. 

It's ‘cliche’ and ‘stupid’, and maybe it should be different, but Shuichi knows that his own self-loathing heart is the force driving that the most. Remembers hearing the words scripted and knowing that they both decided their feelings to be real no matter what it why. 

Shuichi gets up and helps Kokichi try to keep the next batch of pancakes from burning. 

“We'll have to give these away to everyone….” Kokichi yawns into his hand. 

Leaning down, Shuichi feels a surge of lightness,and brushes Kokichi's bangs away from his face. He leaves a huge sloppy kiss on the other man's forehead. It makes Kokichi groan an exaggerated ‘eeewww’. They break away as Kokichi grabs the sausage from the fridge instead of bacon. He pauses. 

“I loved you even back then.”

Shuichi’s hands, mid pancake flip, use the spatula to send a fluffy two inch thick miracle straight to the floor. 

“AAAAA, Shumai- I love your shyness but please!”

The pit in Shuichi's chest is still there. Some days are days where it takes up his entirety. Rarer now, much rarer with all the help and support. The world is both so much better and just as bad as Shuichi thinks it is, perhaps. 

Kokichi's gentle hands show Shuichi's own the correct way to flip things. The direct manner makes Shuichi fumble harder. 

And so, the cooking continues.

**Author's Note:**

> The evil has vanquished itself. 
> 
> More seriously, I'm kind of surprised that no one commented on Kokichi being trans way back in Air Date.


End file.
